


Small Little Chat between a Man and a Monster

by ButtLordLunaPower



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Other, Smart America, The Author Regrets Nothing, nothing bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8540314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButtLordLunaPower/pseuds/ButtLordLunaPower
Summary: They already know who the monster and who the man is, but what makes a monster, and what makes a man?





	

The water rippled as the sun began lowering down on the horizon, his golden hair waved in the twilight breeze, enjoying pure bliss, sometimes he thought he often forgot.

He mind set of a swarm of pure silence, one would think the pure silence would make a man go insane, but the blond never considered himself a man.

The moon began to rise as he gave a nice hum of silence, something he though always washed away the dead, which was something of course, he respected greatly, because of course, who wouldn't, you're a country whom has people die around them all the time, especially, and more frequently in their country so not once who that smell of a rotting corpse fade, this is what drives some insane or even 'normal' or whatever else you want to call it, but no where sane.  
Death is a smell that reeks on nations.  
  
Even nations who hasn't watched a single body fallen of blood in battle, or even if they haven't killed, they have.  
Its the nations word on who dies and stays alive, and certain people take advantage of that- IF it is necessary, but for some nations... well... haha...

 

 The silver one had only one choice, it was to watch the falling fall, sometimes he enjoyed it, other times he can't bare to watch, but it would never stop him from giving the last call.  
He couldn't stand to watch people suffer though, but he loved hearing the painful cries, the painful pleas.  
Some would think of him as a monster, a monster who sought vengeance to the world, a monster who wanted to watch it crumble and burn in the depths of hell, only a monster would want to got to hell and take everyone and everything with them. But he never considered himself a monster.

 

The eyes of the dead would usually tell his soul to feel happy and free, to the point he could act as humanly as he wanted to, a life with no regret, but some would say it was hard.

 

But tell me, _What_ makes a man, and _what_ makes a monster?


End file.
